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After the ITF announced plans to overhaul the 118-year-old Davis Cup tournament with the help of a $3 billion infusion from Kosmos investment group, Tennis Channel chose the question “Has the ITF gone too far?” for its weekly “Tough Call” debate. To me, this

isn’t a close call: the ITF’s proposed changes would fundamentally alter the nature of the Davis Cup, with national-team competition virtually the only feature remaining. Home and away ties, the life-blood of the event, are gone. The competition is squeezed into a single week; ties (of which there would be 25, up from 15) are reduced from five rubbers to three, matches from best-of-five sets to three; and fans won’t be able to plan ahead to support their team’s efforts in the all-important final weekend (as they have ample time to do with the current format), since the contestants won’t be known until Thursday or Friday. A final in a neutral venue, which was part of last year’s failed bid, doesn’t sound so bad now that we’re facing the prospect of neutral fans—that is, those who bought tickets without having any idea which teams would make the final. The ITF itself isn’t referring to mere “improvements” (which is what their strategic plan, ITF2024, identifies as a priority) but to the “transformation” of Davis Cup, going so far as to say that they’re creating a new event—albeit one with a derivative name: the “season-ending World Cup of Tennis Finals.”

This leads me to two, over-arching questions. 1) Does professional tennis really need a “major new” annual tournament? (Never mind, for the time being, subordinate questions about the proposal’s specifics: e.g., is late November the best time in the tennis calendar to stage such a competition?) 2) What gap in men’s tennis does this proposal fill—or, more to the point, what problems about Davis Cup as-is does it aim to solve?

Here’s what I know to be true: players in the World Group (though what percentage, I’m not sure anyone can say) have complained about the Davis Cup schedule. Some focus on its proximity to the majors, noting that it’s difficult—particularly for those who regularly make deep runs—to turn around and hop on a plane to another time zone, often playing on a different surface from both the previous and the subsequent tournament. Some think four weeks a year is too big a commitment or suggest the event take place biennially, not to conflict with the Olympic games. Some would likely welcome a reduction from best-of-five sets to three, to make the ties less (potentially) grueling and decrease risk of injury. Many, no doubt, wish ATP points were still on offer and certainly wouldn’t look askance at more prize money.

What’s confusing to me: why the ITF took player complaints about the schedule and frequency of Davis Cup ties and decided to address them with this set of format changes. Were European players and fans—that is, those who’ve largely comprised finals participants for well over a decade—clamoring to fly to Singapore a month after the end of the ATP’s Asian swing?

We keep hearing the Davis Cup is “dying” and that such comprehensive changes are inevitable, even necessary. (“It’s either this or get rid of it,” says Mardy Fish.) Is it really in a terminal state? When and how was its condition diagnosed? The absence of top players from the field is the most frequently-cited reason, followed by the competition’s diminished “relevance.” Things sure sound dire. But rarely is concrete evidence of the competition’s demise on offer, even in texts of longer than 280 characters. For example, though the New York Times noted this week that the competition is “losing traction globally,” nowhere did the article provide a specific example of what this loss entails or how it registers in various parts of the tennis world. Yes, it’s said that this slow, painful death has resulted in fading prestige: winning the trophy doesn’t mean as much as it once did. But how are such things as meaning measured?

In some cases, contributing factors are pretty easy to quantify and confirm or dispute. For instance, the oft-repeated claim that the “top players” don’t participate is overstated. Again, Fish: “What stars? No one played anymore[,] dude”—an especially odd observation from an American given that the best U.S. players, like John Isner, consistently commit to the national team, and the Bryan brothers recently retired from Davis-Cup duty after 14 straight years of service and a 25-5 doubles record. (See here and here for more numbers that rather undermine such statements.) Not only have all of the most-decorated players of this generation won the Davis Cup—Spain, with and without Nadal, four times since 2004—but most other eligible top-50 ranked players also take part annually.

only 3 fully fit top 50 players decided not to play Davis Cup this weekend: one is 36yo, another is 34yo and the other has had a bad relationship with his federation for years pic.twitter.com/U2YqOVWo0X

In 2017, 15 top-20 players competed; in 2016, it was 16 of the top 20 and 24 of the top 30. Prior to a few years ago, the ITF didn’t even publish such statistics in their yearly roundup—perhaps because they didn’t feel the pressure to combat this common, but misleading, line.

Being the skeptical sort, I’d like to see more proof of the Davis Cup’s ill health. So, I’ve got questions, ones that I challenge the tennis fans and journalists among my readers to answer. As you’ll no doubt note, all of the below pertain to the World Group—rather unfortunately, the only part of the Davis Cup that gets much attention (about which, more later).

A. Is the Davis Cup losing money annually? If so, since when and how much? When did it make more? What is the competition’s annual revenue and how is it distributed among national tennis federations? How much (more) does the ITF need to make—from the World Group contests, in particular—in order to fund its development programs at current and/or desirable levels?

B. Have Davis Cup ticket sales, especially for the final, been decreasing over the years? This seems unlikely, given that five of the six biggest single-day crowds have been recorded in the last 14 years, but I suppose anything is possible.

Was there a time when considerably more than half a million spectators (which seems to be the standard of late) attended Davis Cup ties over the course of a season? If so, when was the sales peak and is the decline since then steep or significant? Some point to the 2014 final, in which a Federer-led Switzerland beat a charismatic and deep French team in front of 27,448 fans at the stadium in Lille, as if it were some sort of anomaly. But the fact is that over 530,000 spectators attended the Davis Cup in 2017 and the final Sunday crowd—there to cheer on as Belgium’s David Goffin unexpectedly beat Jo-Wilfried Tsonga and Lucas Pouille secured the championship for France by defeating Steve “The Shark” Darcis—was some 26,000 strong. (With the exception of Tsonga, I’d respectfully suggest, none of those four players is a particularly big draw outside their home country.) The numbers in other recent years don’t look terribly different: in 2016, sell-out crowds (including an enthusiastic Diego Maradona) watched Croatia and Argentina go the distance in Zagreb’s 16,000-seat arena; and even in 2013, when a depleted Serbian team hosted the Czech Republic, 46,000 fans attended the season finale in Belgrade.

C. Has the number of people watching Davis Cup on tv (or via streaming services) dwindled over the decades? Have fewer networks been carrying the event live? Are the tv contracts worth less now than they were at some point in the past? Is the Davis Cup broadcast in fewer countries than it was 10, 20, or 40 years ago? How does coverage and viewership for the tournament final compare to that for an ATP Masters 1000 series event (not, mind you, a “combined” event like Indian Wells), the World Tour Finals, or the Olympic men’s singles final?

E. Has there been a decrease in website visits and fan social-media engagement over the past decade or two? From where I’m sitting, the 2017 numbers looks pretty good; admittedly, though, I’m no expert on such matters and have no real point of reference.

By what means, other than those I’ve identified above, do or did the ITF and tennis pundits gauge world-wide interest, particularly before the internet era?

F. Are fewer articles being written about Davis Cup—first, in host and guest nation publications; and second, in global sports outlets? Are significantly fewer foreign print media attending than they did in the past (and is this number out of step with developments at other tennis tournaments)? If an editor doesn’t send his/her tennis reporter to cover Davis Cup, how do we know that’s a reflection on reader interest rather than on the current state of journalism in general and tennis media in particular?

If we’re lucky, someone more technologically adept than I will explore Google trends or a similar site and report back. (Former Yugoslavia, represent!)

G. More generally, when we hear that this competition is less meaningful, prestigious, or valuable than it used to be, on what are such assessments based? Not everything can be quantified, I realize, but surely those who’ve reached this conclusion can better substantiate it—at least, if they hope to persuade others who don’t already agree.

When the Davis Cup of today is found lacking, to what is it being compared: its own (apparently glorious) past, grand slam tournaments (which are, it’s worth underscoring, dual-gender events), finals in other sports, and/or competitions that currently exist only on paper? Are these comparisons reasonable? How much of what we imagine the Davis Cup could or should be is filtered through nostalgia or a result of wishful thinking?

For instance, is it useful to model an annual national-team tennis tournament on the World Cup, which takes place every four years and involves a lengthy continental qualification process? Does it make sense to suggest Davis Cup should be more akin to a year-old exhibition like the Laver Cup or even a longstanding competition such as Ryder Cup, both of which take place in a long weekend and involve only two teams (and, thus, no preliminary rounds)?

Is it even fair to compare the current iteration to the Davis Cup’s past, when the entire tennis—not to mention global sports—landscape looked dramatically different and its seasonal calendar was much less full? After all, during the first seventy years of the competition, fewer than fifty nations participated and the trophy was monopolized by the four slam nations. (Belgium, by the way, was the first other country to make the Davis Cup final: they got crushed by the Brits, 5-0, in 1904. Japan, in 1921, was the next—and they didn’t fare any better against the Americans; it would be almost 40 more years for another outsider, Italy, to be subject to a similar defeat at the hands of the Aussies.)Of course it’s not going to mean the same thing now, with 125 countries competing, as it did in an era when the professional tour was just getting started—and especially in the decades immediately before that, when the event was essentially an extended grudge match between the U.S. and Australia. But just because the place of the Davis Cup in men’s tennis has changed, so it means something different from what it did in the days of Roy Emerson and John Newcombe, Stan Smith and Arthur Ashe, that doesn’t necessarily make it less meaningful. Though the British public may not have been quite as thrilled by the 2015 Davis Cup win as they were when Andy Murray ended the 77-year British men’s singles title drought at Wimbledon two years prior, for example, not even playing on the clay in Ghent seems to have dampened Team GB’s enthusiasm for the occasion.

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As is likely obvious by now, I love the Davis Cup. Still, despite its being one of my favorite sporting events of the year, I certainly agree it can be improved. I also believe it’s really important to identify—and understand the precise nature of—the problem before considering potential solutions. Because even though I think reports of its death have been greatly exaggerated, it’s clear Davis Cup does have a problem. Or the ITF does, anyway.

AM: You’re expecting your first child, which will be a new experience for you as both a person and a professional. How challenging do you think balancing your family life and work is going to be?

VT: Luckily, I found the best woman in the world who understands everything and helps me in everything. Above all, I think I made the right choice—in terms of both a wife and a mother for my child. She won’t be doing it all herself, of course, but she understands that I’m often traveling to play tournaments and she’ll be the one spending most of the time with the baby, especially in the beginning.

She’ll have as much support as she needs from both my parents in Belgrade and hers in Paraćin [central Serbia]—and I’ll do my best, whenever I’m with them, to help as much as I can. I’m truly overjoyed about it. Being a parent is something that everyone looks forward to: it’s sacred, the biggest thing that can happen to a person. I can’t wait to become a father.

AM: When is the baby due?

VT: Soon—in a few months.

AM: Do you think you’ll take an extended break?

VT: I doubt it. It’ll probably be between Roland Garros and Wimbledon and the tournaments on grass suit me. So, I’ll of course come to see my wife and baby when it all happens, but I won’t be able to stay for long.

AM: Novak, Nenad, & Janko all have kids. Have you talked to them about family life on tour? Will yours travel with you?

VT: Not at first, while the baby’s small. Definitely not for the first six months—there’s no need to torment them like that! But later, when the baby gets bigger and stronger, of course they’ll come with me.

AM: Do you have a list of names?

VT: Yes, but…

AM: No, I didn’t mean to suggest that you tell me—I’m just asking to see how prepared you are! In any case, your wife has already traveled with you quite a bit, right?

This blog is almost exclusively a repository for my tennis-related thoughts. But, occasionally, something beyond the tour inspires me (is that the right word?) to put words on virtual paper and share them with more than a few intimates. Election 2016, in general, and the results of the presidential contest, in particular, is one such thing.

In the wake of November 8th, are people you know trying to defend the Trump voters among their friends, relatives, coworkers, &/or acquaintances? Does that frustrate you (or make you angry, sad, or another stronger—even darker—emotion)? You are not alone.

In replying to a friend of a friend on Facebook, I ended up writing something that might be useful to others who find themselves in a similar predicament in the coming days, weeks, and months (I can’t handle thinking longer-term than that right now). That is: trying to respond to someone nice & polite & reasonable who says something along the lines of, “I would not classify myself as a ‘Trump Supporter,’ but I would say I am becoming increasingly sympathetic to those who voted for Trump and are now being unfairly labeled or judged.” My reaction has two parts: an acknowledgment of what I think are legitimate concerns and a rejoinder to an often-implicit argument that I don’t find in the least compelling.

First, it is of course unfair to lump all of Trump voters together into one basket and label it “deplorable.” Doing so was one of the biggest mistakes, if not the biggest, HRC made in the general-election campaign and it came back to bite her—hard. There’s no doubt in my mind that that comment unified & strengthened the resolve of those who already supported Trump, pushed some undecideds his way, and gave both his team and conservative media a political club with which to bash her for the final two months of the election. Rhetorically, strategically, and perhaps even ethically, it was a bad move.

However, I don’t think it’s unfair to judge Trump voters in the following way: they themselves may not be racist, antisemitic, sexist, misogynistic, homophobic, Islamophobic, &/or xenophobic—in a word, bigots. But the election results indicate they are willing (on some level) to tolerate a lot of deeply troubling, offensive, & even threatening words & actions from both Trump himself and a not insignificant segment of his supporters. Whom one gets “in bed” with politically isn’t irrelevant. What sorts of things one is willing to overlook, qualify, play down, or explain away because it makes it easier to justify voting for someone—or feel less bad about doing so—matters. I’m guessing (or maybe it’d be more accurate to say “hoping”) that there are many millions who voted for Trump despite all the horrible things he said—despite the indications of what kind of person he is, despite his lack of discipline, despite ample evidence that he does not bring out the best in his fellow man—not because of them. Maybe a lot of Trump voters held their noses and voted for him anyway, hoping that the mainstream media (and his biographers) were exaggerating his flaws and painting the behavior of his less-savory supporters with a colorful brush. Maybe these people (I’ve seen some suggesting as much) genuinely believe that he’s the lesser of two evils, will bring needed change, and can fulfill some of the economic promises he’s made. Maybe they believe all the Fox News stories about the Clintons and take as given that they (& their “corruption”) are truly different in kind, rather than degree, from other politicians. Maybe they were expressing frustration with “business as usual” in Washington and are hoping an “outsider” like Trump will disrupt all of that—and then, out of the chaos he creates, something better will emerge. I can easily imagine that being the case for lots of people. But it still doesn’t excuse the fact that they decided those reasons for voting for Trump were more important than all the risks he so obviously brings with him.

My hunch is that those who were able to see Trump for what he is, be bothered by it in some way, & and vote for him anyway are mostly, if not entirely, white people who are insulated from the dangers he represents. That, to me, is a problem. We might even call it by a name that I know some in conservative circles scoff at: white privilege. So, I do indeed judge them for what they have—through their votes—deemed to be tolerable, especially since they’re not going to be the ones doing the “tolerating.” That burden will fall on black & brown people, on Muslims & Jews, on Sikhs (because people are ignorant and think turban = terrorist), on members of the LGBT community, and, yes, on women. As a woman, as a friend to many in the aforementioned groups, and as a person with an active moral imagination, I judge Trump voters for putting their fellow Americans at risk on the gamble—because let’s be very clear, it is a gamble—that some economic or political good may come of his presidency. That’s a bet I don’t think was worth making—and I particularly judge college-educated voters with annual incomes over $75K for making it. I think it’s a deeply selfish decision.

After what he perceived to be a bad call to put him down a break-point in the first, Troicki made his displeasure known to the lines-person, Chair Umpire Timo Janzen, and his more experienced colleague Cédric Mourier, who was watching from the sidelines. Upon losing the set, 6-4, Troicki had a further outburst—unlike the first, however, these complaints were both mostly directed toward a sympathetic member of his team and in Serbian. As he walked to his chair, Troicki was followed by a line judge, who seems to have reported that the Serb’s yelling included some choice curses; only then does the umpire call him for a code violation. Given how this incident was resolved, have matters improved over the past three years?

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In Madrid this week, there was a tense exchange between Novak Djoković and a crowd that was not simply lively or partisan toward his opponent, Grigor Dimitrov, but at times almost inexplicably hostile to the Serb. After saving a match point and winning the second-set tiebreaker, the men’s No. 1 defiantly shouted a vulgar phrase in his native tongue. While it stands to reason that few in the Caja Mágica understood what he was saying, Djoković’s outburst—or, more specifically, the lack of response to it from Chair Umpire Carlos Bernardes—nevertheless reignited an ongoing tennis debate. In an international sport with a global television audience, is it fair for only those players speaking English (or, in rare cases, the language of the umpire) to get penalized for violations of the “audible obscenity” rule?

1. Players on both tours agree to abide by a code of conduct geared toward encouraging professional behavior and promoting the integrity and positive image of tennis. In fact, the code is in effect throughout the tournament grounds, though fans generally hear about it only when it’s been breached during a match. The audible obscenity rule, which can include point penalties as well as fines of up to $5,000 per violation (up to $20,000 at Slams), differs from rules about the game itself as it concerns consideration for those within earshot of the court. As the rule is general, merely stating that a player can be called for a violation if he or she uses “words commonly known and understood to be profane and uttered clearly and loudly enough to be heard,” it makes sense that it should apply equally to all players. Or, if that seems unrealistic, perhaps the powers that be will consider abandoning the rule altogether rather than maintaining a double standard.

2. While audible obscenities are hardly a plague on the sport, it’d be a good idea for WTA, ATP, and ITF administrators to put their heads together and decide if they’re committed to the rule, what principles are behind it (for instance, is it intended to safeguard only the sensibilities of on-site spectators or those of all viewers?), and how to more fairly implement it. With the number of languages spoken by players, however, this may be easier said than done. We witnessed just how complicated—albeit entertaining—it can be earlier this year in Miami, when Chair Umpire Marija Čičak assessed a code violation to Svetlana Kuznetsova after she shouted a word that sounded like profanity in the player’s native Russian but turned out to be the Spanish word for “court.” Still, given that umpires call the score and request fans to be “Quiet, please” in various languages, I see no reason why they can’t be asked to master a short list of choice words in the three most common linguistic clusters on tour: Romanic, Germanic, and Slavic. (Readers who think this would be an onerous task for tournament officials are welcome to suggest alternatives.) If such a change encourages more players to learn Chinese, so be it.

3. The above example aside, determining whether a player has used an obscenity is relatively straightforward. Umpires, then, have only two judgment calls to make before enforcing the rule. Was the profanity sufficiently loud so that others, including ball-kids, will have heard it? Was there anything “flagrant” or “egregious” about the utterance that would warrant the player’s being assessed with a major offense of “aggravated behavior”? Unless the act falls under separate rules for verbal abuse or unsportsmanlike conduct, the direction in which a player is cursing—at him- or herself or in the general direction of the stands—doesn’t matter. As likely goes without saying, players are expected to comport themselves professionally, however frustrated they may be or poorly a crowd behaves.

4. Having said that, the umpire can and should warn a crowd if it gets out of hand. (For the record, I think cheering for faults and whistling or booing a player’s winners is a pretty low standard of behavior.) Everyone, especially players, likes an active and engaged audience. But since tennis has a longstanding tradition of silence, excepting “oohs” and “aahs,” during points, there’s good reason for officials to intervene before the atmosphere gets too rowdy. Even in Davis and Fed Cup, there are limits. While all players must learn to deal with adverse conditions, no player should have to put up with deliberate distractions or disrespect from spectators. To disrespect players is, after all, to disrespect the game.

5. Call it wishful thinking, but I think that if the rule were more fairly applied, we’d see two positive developments. First, non-Anglophone players would likely clean up their on-court exclamations. Second, fans might be less inclined to make moral judgments in response to players’ colorful verbiage. What sounds unusual or awfully vulgar to me may be common or fairly benign in another language, even another dialect. Almost without exception, players curse—they’re human, like the rest of us. And, in the immortal words of Andy Murray, they do so while “trying their tits off.” By all means, apply the rule to all players; then, let’s cut them some slack. Sound fair?

At the World Tour Finals in London, I had a chance to ask Novak Djoković for his thoughts on what Viktor Troicki has achieved this season. “Well,” started the ATP #1, “I think he managed something that not many have in the history of tennis: to return, practically from nothing, to where he belongs—in the world’s top 25.” Showing that he’d been following his teammate’s results closely, he added: Viktor “had a bit of difficulty in the last few months lining up successes and maintaining the continuity that he had in the first 5-6 months of the year. But, all things considered and taking into account where he was 15 months ago and where he is now, I think he really should be acknowledged and congratulated, because psychologically that is extremely difficult and a big challenge and he managed to overcome it. So, as his friend, I am extremely pleased that he succeeded in doing it.”

What does Troicki think of his own accomplishments? Earlier this year, I sat down with the Serbian player and his Australian coach for two wide-ranging conversations about their first year back on tour after a year-long suspension. With both Troicki and Reader, we talked a lot about the past: that fateful day in Monte Carlo and its aftermath. Even though it’s been two years since the CAS tribunal decided his case, the emotions of both men are still strong. (Those needing a refresher on Troicki’s case, which led to his being sanctioned for violating the ITF’s anti-doping rules, can read this overview from 2013.) Here, though, we’ll focus mostly on the positives: Viktor’s comeback and what he’s learned about himself and the man who travels with him for much of the year. Read my exchange with Jack Reader here; the Serbian version of this interview was published by B92.

AM: The week you returned, you were ranked 847 in the world and now you’re in the top 25. But those are merely numbers. What are you most proud of in terms of the last year?

VT: Well, it was hard. Before starting, it was hard mentally—not knowing what was going to happen. There was a lot of pressure, from everyone, and I wasn’t sure myself how it was going to be, whether I was going to return at all. Who knows, if I’d lost the first five matches, how I would have felt or whether I’d play again?

Even though a lot of people were doubting if I’d ever come back, I’m a very stubborn person—you know, Serbian inat. So, I wanted to prove, first of all to myself but also to others, that I could do it and that I could be even better. Of course, if I get into position to say out loud to the whole organization of the ITF that they were wrong in trying to end my career…

AM: But you know it wasn’t personal, right? I don’t mean for you—simply that the ITF would have gone after anyone in that position.

VT: Afterwards, I felt it was. Everything they said in public, they made it personal.

AM: Well, they have to maintain their position.

VT: Sure, sure. But, afterwards, whatever I felt before from the ITF, it’s not the same. For example, I asked for a wildcard for the US Open last year—just for qualies—and there was no response. I didn’t expect to get the wildcard, but it’s proof that they don’t care about me.

AM: To return to the good stuff, what else are you feeling after this year? Although you may not be at your career-high ranking now (he spent three weeks at #12 in 2011), have there been other high points?

VT: Definitely, winning the Sydney title was huge to start the year. I’ve had some good results, on grass especially. But I had a lot of good matches, good wins, and feel my game is improving, which is the most pleasing thing to see. I don’t want to stop here.

Troicki Triumphs in Sydney. Photo: Getty Images

Altogether, I’m still hungry for more results and for being better than I am. It’s nice to see where I am after just one year, but I still want to improve. That’s my goal and that’s why I’m working hard.

I have to say, though, that sometimes I’m disappointed that I’m not getting much credit. You know, when a player comes back from an injury or a long break, they write about it and it’s a big thing: “He came back; he made it!” A lot of players use their protected ranking; they get wildcards. It hurt me that I didn’t have any of those. It doesn’t even matter about last year—just for being where I am, right now… It seems like [the media] are almost forbidden to say anything about me because of what happened.

AM: From my perspective, it may be that doping is such a serious issue in sports that there’s a risk in criticizing the ITF and WADA or even appearing sympathetic toward a player like you, returning from suspension. Certainly, it’s been suggested that I’m naive for believing your version of events or that I don’t understand the bigger issues at stake. Sports journalists may be afraid to do or say anything that could make them look “soft” on doping.

What about sponsors? I know Babolat stuck with you—anybody else?

Photo: Lotto Sport Italia

VT: Lotto, the clothing company, stepped up right away. They wanted me to wear their stuff as soon as I came back. But apart from that, no, nothing. Ok, being Serbian, it’s already tough. But having this situation, it’s even tougher.

AM: What was it like returning to the Challenger tour after all these years?

VT: It was definitely weird, you know, being on the tour for however many years and being used to it and then coming back to the qualies of Challengers. It was different.

AM: Did you talk to any of the young players?

VT: Yeah, they helped me because I felt they were sometimes scared of me. They knew who I was, obviously, and my ranking in the past.

AM: There was an intimidation factor?

VT: Yeah, but on the other hand, they all wanted to beat me because they knew I was a good player. So, they were kind of scared but also had more motivation to go for it.

It was kind of weird, being on the Challenger tour, meeting some of the guys I’ve never seen and some kids that are coming up and probably going to be great players.

AM: How was the road trip with your team?

VT: It was fun—we were all excited about it, even though it was the Challengers and I had to play qualies. I felt like I was 19 or 20 again. When I finished juniors, that’s how I felt—I wanted it so bad, I was running for every ball and fighting for every point. It was definitely a great experience.

I was always a fighter—I would never give up. That’s why, I think, I made it—both times. When I was first coming up, trying to build my ranking, I believed in myself. Even though, when I was a junior, they told me I couldn’t have a career because I wasn’t talented enough.

AM: As juniors, Janko [Tipsarević] was always considered the more talented one.

Flashback: 2004. Photo: Getty Images.

VT: He was older than me by two years. I never even got to hit with him before I was about 18—he was way ahead of me, already playing professional tournaments at a young age. Novak was one year younger, but he used to play with the older guys. So, a lot of people never thought I could be any good or make it as a professional. I was never the best of my generation—there were a lot of kids who were ahead of me.

But I started playing better and better when I was 18. And that helped me a lot [last year], remembering these old times. I was fighting even then, working harder than the others, just to prove to people that I could make it. I had no sponsors, no help from anyone. Actually, a friend sent me an article recently from when I was young, saying that I shouldn’t get monthly support from the Federation because I had no future in tennis. It was funny to see that.

All these things help now. Just like when I was young, I want to do it because I believe in myself and that I can be where I want to be.

AM: When you came back, one of your first big goals was to make it into the top 100. What kind of goals do you have now?

2015 Stuttgart finalists. Photo: Peter Staples/ ATP

VT: A definite goal is the top 10. As I’ve said, I’m hungry and I want more and the top 10 is the next step. It’s not easy: there are a lot of great players who want to be there, but I feel I have a chance. I believe in myself—that’s one of the main things you’ve got to have, other than quality and hard work. But if you don’t believe, you’re never going to be there.

AM: Even if this whole ITF case hadn’t happened, you weren’t doing too well in 2012. Weren’t you already in a bit of a slump before you started working with Jack Reader?

VT: I got settled into this kind of position—being in the top 30, 40, 50—and nothing major was happening. I got pretty used to this feeling of going to tournaments, playing matches, and not really enjoying it. When I was a kid, I always wanted to be here; but then, I wasn’t feeling the excitement.

When we started working together, even though I was top 50 in the world, my game was really bad. I wasn’t feeling confident at all and I was struggling with my game—it was falling apart. Jack came right in the moment when the new season was starting. Of course, it didn’t start great immediately, but we were going step by step and by working on specific things, I felt improvement. Everything was going better and better—already by the French Open I reached the fourth round, which was a good thing. At Wimbledon, I made the third round, beating Janko and playing other good matches. So, I felt like my game was back… Then it all stopped.

Such a coach, he could have gone with anyone. I know he had offers. When I got sanctioned, when we knew it would be a year, Jack took it hard. During the first call, he felt sorry; he was also very shocked and down. But then he called me back right away and said, “Ok, we’re going to do this. We’re going to come back. We’re going to prove that we belong there and be better than before.” He was pumped right away—it was crazy to see, but he was.

AM: That must have been especially helpful since you were so down at the time. I remember seeing you on the front page of a Serbian tabloid, with a headline like “I don’t know what to do with my life,” and being worried for you.

VT: Well, I was shocked more than anything. It was all over the news—all the attention was on me and nobody knew what really went on. All of a sudden, it was happening and it was a big thing, you know?

I’ve got to thank the Serbian media. They were all really supportive and I never expected that. My personal feeling is that they were behind me. First of all, they were trying to understand what had happened; but after that, they were trying to encourage me to come back. That helped me.

Photo: Jason Reed/ Reuters

AM: What have you learned about your coach in the past two years?

VT: That he is a really great person, first of all. That he is genuine and honest—a true friend. It’s not just a professional relationship. He was never after any money or anything like that. He would always help you out.

It’s incredible how many friends he has around the world. I’ve met many of them and they all say the exact same thing—that he’s a great person and he cares about his friends. With me, he’s been really caring a lot and it’s unbelievable to have such a person next to you. He’s not just in it for business—it’s also to have a nice relationship outside the court. People love him on the tour: they know he’s funny, very relaxed, and always positive.

He also made me more happy on the court and helped me enjoy tennis more. There are a lot of things he’s taught me and a lot of things I’ve seen from him. It’s great to have him with me.

When his 2015 campaign came to an end with a loss to Stan Wawrinka at the Paris Masters, Viktor Troicki didn’t seem particularly disappointed. Instead, he posted a photo of his celebratory dinner on social media.

It’s no wonder: including his Davis Cup commitments, the Serbian #2 played 31 tournaments this year—the most of any player in the ATP’s top 30 (Djoković, by contrast, played only 17). This heavy schedule might have taken both a mental and a physical toll, but Troicki surely won’t mind, given what he’s been through in recent years.

With tennis players vacationing or engaged in pre-season training in sunny climates, it’s time to reflect on what Troicki has accomplished during his first full season on tour after a year-long suspension in 2013-14. Fans will recall that Troicki, ranked 847 upon his return last July, had already managed to boost his ranking to 102 by late November 2014—enough to earn himself a direct entry to the main draw of the Australian Open. Even more impressive is what he’s managed since then: getting back to the ATP’s top 25. Earlier this year, I sat down with the Serbian player and his Australian coach for two wide-ranging conversations about his comeback, their relationship, and, naturally, the case that forced him to sit on the sidelines for a year. What follows are some of the highlights. You can read the Serbian version of the interviews on B92.

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First came a discussion with Jack Reader, the straight-talking coach who stood by Troicki’s side despite having every right to break his contract due to the Serb’s ban. Knowing that Reader has a reputation as an unconventional character, a “maverick,” I was curious to learn a bit about his life as well as his coaching philosophy.

Photo: Bianca De Marchi

Reader was born in England, raised in coastal Australia, and has traveled all his life—living in New Zealand, Florida, Germany, and Italy. “I’ve had a few experiences in life,” observes Reader. “You think, ‘What is life?’ I just try to enjoy it.” This is an easy-going philosophy he’s tried to impart upon his Serbian pupil. “I have to remind Viktor: what did you want to do when you were a kid? You loved playing tennis and wanted to do it. That’s what you’re doing now, so how can you be annoyed? You’ve got to learn to enjoy this stuff.”

Before he teamed up with Troicki in late 2012, Reader worked with the talented but unpredictable Ukrainian Alexandr Dolgopolov for three years, assisting his young charge climb from the Challenger level to the top of the men’s tour and a career-high ranking of #13.

AM: How do you transition between players? What kind of adjustments are entailed when they have different playing styles, different personalities?

JR: I try and find the best in them. It takes a while. I look at them—I don’t just open my mouth and start saying things. I’m quiet. As I said to Vik the first time, “I’m probably not going to say anything for a while.” I just relax, start to understand his personality, and eventually I find out how he feels his strokes, ask him to try a couple of things, ask what he thinks.

It’s their tennis—you try to guide them and get feedback from them. You know, there’s not one way to hit a tennis ball. Just take Rafa and Roger—it’s pretty much night and day in terms of the ease and effort put into hitting a tennis ball, isn’t it? But who’s hitting it the “right” way? Whoever’s winning that day, I guess.

AM: In the coach-player dynamic, the player hires the coach—so people tend to think of the coach as an employee. Presumably, though, you won’t work with just any player. What you look for in a prospective partnership?

JR: First, you have to be able to get on well. That’s imperative, because you spend a heck of a lot of time with them. You travel together, having breakfast and dinner together most of the time. And then there’s the work. As you go along, you have to be compatible. Alex and Viktor are quite different, but I find the good in both of them.

When Vik and I first decided to try, I wanted spend some time in Belgrade. I wanted to meet his family; I wanted to meet his friends and see how he lives. I went out with him socially—had a few drinks with his friends and spoke to them. I had dinner with his mum and dad a number of times—to get to know them. That way, you understand where a person comes from, see how they think and how they react to situations, how they’ve been brought up.

AM: What were your impressions of Serbia?

JR: I love going to Belgrade—I enjoy Serbia. It’s totally different to how I expected. In Australia, we have a lot of ex-Yugoslavs, and they seem to bring the problems with them. There was always a lot of aggression between them in Australia. So I thought, “Wow, this is going to be interesting to go to Serbia. If it’s going to be full of people like that, what’s it going to be like?” Then, I went there and the people were super-nice to me and I had a great time. I like it.

AM: Viktor’s an interesting personality, I think, because he combines quiet and shy with a more emotional and demonstrative side. Did you see the passionate part of Serbia on those trips to Belgrade?

JR: Oh, sure. You get used to it. I’ve lived in different countries and I speak German and Italian. Like in Italy, when you don’t understand the language, you feel a little uncomfortable. For example, the Italians scream and yell and you think, “Are they going to fight?” Then they’re laughing and getting along—and you come to understand the nature of the people. I think that’s much the same with the Serbs, too. You have to understand it.

Photo: Getty Images

AM: Before you started working together, Viktor had already hit a peak in 2011 (with a career-high of #12), but was struggling.

JR: Yeah, he was going down. He hadn’t won many matches. The worst thing that happened was that his forehand was, well, laughable. At that stage, it was pretty bad. But we got to Belgrade and I did a few things and he liked what I was doing and I liked how he approached things. So, that’s when we both decided we’d like to work together.

Unfortunately, we had to wait until the Aussie Open to really start. I couldn’t do pre-season with him because I’d given my word to somebody that I’d work with him for a month. At first, Vik didn’t want to have an interview and trial with me because I said, “Yes, I’d be interested, but I’ve got to do this month because I verbally agreed to it and I stick by my word.” Then, he spoke to his manager and decided, “No, I actually like that. I admire that, so I think we’ll try.” You know, sometimes Vik’s a bit impatient; then he reflects on it. That’s something he’s got to learn—a bit of patience sometimes. It’s a youthful thing: you want it straight away, in a day. But I think he’s learning now that sometimes you have to chip away at things—tap, tap, tap.

AM: What have been some of his other improvements since 2013?

JR: It’s now twelve months since he started again and he’s reached #20 in the world. There have been some bad losses, too, which could have made a big difference. So, there’s a balance there. I expected him to come back, otherwise I wouldn’t have stuck by. There’s only about twenty guys above him at the moment, so that’s not bad.

Physically, I think he’s a lot better—Miloš Jelasavčić has done a great job with him. (He works with Gilles Simon as well.) The year off, I think, also rested his body. It’s a stressful game—lots of repetition, particularly in terms of serving, and unnatural movements all the time make for wear and tear on the body. Especially playing matches: when you’re competing, you’re a bit tense because you’re making things happen, whereas practice is nice and relaxed. So, I think he’s earned a couple of extra years on his career because of the time off—that’s how we look at it.

Mentally, he’s doing a lot better. You know, everybody gets mad sometimes. But I think, in general, he’s improved very much and his approach to tennis has improved.

AM: Viktor is well-known for a few things: scoring the winning point in Davis Cup in 2010, of course, and now his suspension and comeback. But there have also been some funny on-court moments that went “viral” —the ball-boy incident at Roland Garros in 2011 and the line call dispute in Rome. What were you thinking at that moment?

JR: Well, I wasn’t happy at first. But then I was pleased at the way he turned it around and kind of made it into a joke. The initial loss of self-control is something he’s had to improve on. You know, sometimes you lose it that little too much; but he’s getting much more control now.

AM: You wrote an open letter to Viktor during his suspension, explaining why you were sticking with him, even though there was an “exit” clause in your contract. Were you confident then that you’d made the right decision?

JR: Leaving money aside, my decision was made on moral grounds more than anything. I thought it was ridiculous, what happened.

AM: How was your relationship affected by going through this difficult experience together?

JR: Well, I think it’s a false world, in a way, the tennis world. You’re so popular when you’re doing well—and that’s how it is with celebrity. But people are so quick to drop you. Nobody gives a hoot and nobody’s prepared to do anything for someone like Vik, in this case. They don’t want to say anything or get in trouble—they just leave it alone. So, I think he was appreciative of somebody being there, you know, sticking by him. To me, it was unjust what happened to him.

AM: What did you do during the period when Viktor wasn’t yet training full time?

JR: I worked with an Aussie junior. I had a few offers, but I made it quite clear that I was going back to Viktor to finish the job with him; so, I didn’t want to start full-term with someone else. Then, Sergei Bubka got in touch with me. He’d had a big fall and broken a bunch of bones—he’s got metal here & there. So, he came out to Australia and I worked with him quite a bit. I’d go with Vik, then go back to Sergei, then go with Vik again.
AM: After all your experience at the top level of the ATP, what was it like to spend a few months on the Challenger tour?

JR: And the Futures! I did the Futures with Sergei. Then, when Vik started back, he had to go to Challengers. He did well enough that we didn’t need to go to Futures, but that could have happened. We were prepared to have to go through that channel.

AM: Was anything about that interesting? Didn’t you guys do a road trip through Italy at one point?

JR: Yeah, I kind of enjoyed that. I missed that. It’s nice to be able to just drive from tournament to tournament. It’s really good.

And everybody’s pretty good—number 300, even 600 in the world. They play well, you know, so you have to compete. Good on Viktor for keep his mentality—a lot of the time he didn’t play very good tennis, but he managed to keep going and getting results.

AM: As Novak says, you can be the favorite in every single match—you still have to go out and win it.

JR: Sure.

AM: How much of your job is about physical aspects of the game—working on the forehand, for instance—and how much is about strategy or tactics?

JR: Well, you’ve got to have the strokes up to a certain level so you can follow up with the strategy. It’s pretty hard to give a tactic if somebody’s not comfortable with how they’re hitting the ball. Vik’s still making some improvements in that area, which is very pleasing.

AM: What do you consider the best parts of Viktor’s game? What are his biggest challenges?

JR: Well, he’s a very good athlete—and such a great retriever. We’re trying to get him to be a little more aggressive and back himself a bit more. In too many cases, he’s ready to sit back and wait for the other guy to lose. That’s contributed to a few bad losses he’s had—he stopped being proactive. But he’s getting there.

AM: It’s been a year and he’s already made this huge comeback. Is this the hardest part now, staying at the top?

JR: No. I think we’ve done the hardest part. He’s got back to the top 25. Now, he needs time to sit on a beach somewhere and reflect—absorb what he’s done, be happy, and then be ready to go again. He’s achieved a heck of a lot, hasn’t he?

For the second installment, I spoke to two sports journalists who present quite a contrast: one American, one Brit; one 40-year veteran of tennis writing, one who got his start covering tennis just as Djoković made his push to the very top of the ATP rankings; one who now writes mostly for online sports publications, one who works for a daily newspaper. The interviews with Peter Bodo and Simon Briggs were conducted primarily with a Serbian audience in mind and published by B92. Read my earlier exchanges with Brian Phillips and Steve Tignor here.

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Simon Briggs became The Telegraph’s tennis correspondent in 2011 after writing about England’s national sport, cricket, for fifteen years. He played both sports in his youth, but opted for cricket “properly”—on a competitive level—and tennis only “socially,” as the two sports’ seasons overlap. Briggs began dabbling in tennis journalism while in Australia covering the start of the cricket season, being asked to send reports home when Andy Murray did especially well down under (the Scot made his first of four Aussie Open finals to date in 2010). This spring, Briggs got to meet with Djoković one on one for a Telegraph magazine cover story, an interview during which he got to know the “real Novak.”

Briggs: I have said that in the past… Yeah, that’s because of the lack of depth that we’ve had. So, when we have the Konta story or something, it’s a nice break from covering Andy. He keeps us going as journalists, because if there wasn’t Andy—I don’t know how many of us there are, maybe 10-12, in that alley—we certainly wouldn’t exist in the numbers that we do. There wouldn’t be anything else to write about.

AM: Since tennis has such a long history in Britain, why don’t the big British newspapers cover the sport as whole?

Briggs: I think it’s unfair to say we don’t—it’s a slight exaggeration. The tabloids do sometimes withdraw from events when Andy goes out, so that is proper “Andy Murray correspondent,” whereas The Telegraph, The Times, and The Guardian never do that because they take the other guys seriously. But, if Andy’s playing on a given day, then he’s the story. Unless one of the “Big Three” goes out—and he has a routine victory—that’s the only situation in which he wouldn’t be the story.

AM: To what degree do you think the focus on Murray shapes, for instance, coverage of Djoković?

Briggs: Yes, a little bit. But I think people just don’t “get” Novak the way they got Roger and Rafa. I wrote in that Telegraph magazine story that he’s in a unique position in the history of the sport to have become the guy who inherits the mantle of “top man” from two such charismatic players—they’re both phenomenons whose game style and physical appearance and marketing created a perfect storm. They’re just absolute freak events, those two. So, I think it’s tough for him to come behind them.

There’s a big problem with his game style, for one thing, in a sport which is very aesthetic. His game style isn’t pretty. He’s not a “looker” as a player; he’s a player you admire, for sure. Anyone who doesn’t admire him is not a true tennis fan—you can’t not admire and respect that guy. But it’s very tough for him in that sense.

Then, in the UK, the viewing figures (that Sky Sports record for their matches), which is the best indication, put him at fourth out of the Big Four by quite a long way. So, even though he’s been the best player in the world since I started doing this, he still isn’t anywhere near the others in terms of popularity.

AM: I’ve seen Federer referred to as an “honorary Brit.” Do you think that’s mostly because of his success at Wimbledon or also because the way he carries himself—with gentlemanly restraint, and so on—is sympathetic to the British public?

Briggs: I wouldn’t have thought that the Roger-Rafa split is so different in Britain compared to everywhere else, but maybe the Wimbledon factor means that it is. But when you’re a nation of introverts, you sometimes admire people who are out there with their emotions because that’s what most introverts really want to express.

AM: With reference to Novak’s unique position historically, do you think a player with a different style or personality might have been received more warmly by fans or media? Or would anyone face similar challenges?

Briggs: Any player who doesn’t have an absolute lorry-load of charisma. Let’s say that Kyrgios had come up behind Roger and Rafa and been the third wheel, then he would be huge because he’s just got that marketability, the “X factor” which those two have. Andy’s got a bit more weirdness about him that doesn’t apply to Novak. His game style’s quirkier and he’s more unhinged—more likely to melt down. Whereas with Novak, his very grindingness may make people take him for granted a little bit.

AM: What do you think of the Murray-Djoković rivalry? It’s been fairly lopsided recently— until Andy’s win in Montreal, Novak had won eight matches in a row.

Briggs: I think we always painted it, maybe unfairly, as an “even-Steven” business until the moment when Andy went into his back-surgery recession (after September 2013). Maybe I’m biased… In 2011, he got stuffed by Novak in Australia—that was the moment we thought, “Oooh, crickey! There seems to be a gap emerging.” Before that, it hadn’t been that big. I mean, Novak had won his first major and Andy hadn’t, right? But we all said, “Well, Andy’s always had to play Roger [in finals] and Novak got to play Tsonga.” So, there was a little bit of a sense that we could make excuses for him on that front. After that, Novak didn’t win any more majors; though he won Davis Cup, that’s not a massive deal in the UK when we’re not involved.

I think Andy always felt he had Novak’s number in juniors—he was generally ahead of him, wasn’t he, when they were growing up. So, 2011 was a bit of a shock. Then, through the Lendl years, you felt that Andy had pulled it back, beating him in two finals (even though he still lost to him in Australia).

AM: But then it was another two years…

Briggs: Yes, it was after the Wimbledon final in 2013 that it completely switched into annihilation. So, it may be British bias, but our coverage always painted them as rivals on a pretty equal level with the exception of that one big blowout in Australia. That probably was the result that drove Andy, in the long run, to get Lendl into his camp and led to a couple of years of great tennis.

AM: This year, they played the Australian Open final and French Open semi-final. Then, in the lead-up to Wimbledon, I remember seeing Andy described in the British press as the biggest threat to Novak’s title defense. There was a lot of attention at the time to Novak’s medical time-outs, courtside coaching, the ball-kid incident. What do you think of that? Is some of that the tabloid influence?

Briggs: That was the Daily Mail that really took him on about the ball-girl. I think that is maybe influenced by the Murray-Djoković rivalry and by the aftermath of the play-acting row in Australia.

AM: Do you think there was “play-acting” or did that get blown out of proportion?

Briggs: In a way, we didn’t have to make that decision, because Andy said it… I was quite careful in the immediate report—there may have been one sentence trying to explain what was going on overall, but I tried to put as much of it as possible in Andy’s words and not editorialize because it’s so difficult to know what’s going on in players’ bodies. But, sure, I think the British media would have taken Andy’s side on that.

AM: But even Andy later said that it had been blown out of proportion and that he had no issue with Novak.

AM: Well, not necessarily to be sucked in but to lose focus—because to say “sucked in” suggests that Novak was doing something deliberate, which I don’t think is a fact. In any case, Andy seemed to back away from that position pretty significantly.

Briggs: I think our view is that there had been some gamesmanship going on, but that Andy was as culpable for not handling it. The key quote in that whole interview after the final was something like: “I’ve experienced it before, but maybe not in the final of a Grand Slam.” You could see that what he was thinking was, “I can’t believe he’s doing this to me in a Grand Slam.” My strong interpretation of that was that he was talking about behavior—because we all know that juniors, in particular, do a lot of limping around…

We disagreed on this matter of interpretation, so perhaps it’s best to leave readers with the transcript of Murray’s comments so they can read between the lines on their own.

AM: What I found odd about some of the British coverage of the match is that it gave the impression Murray was leading, when in reality the match was tied at a set-all and Murray had a single break and hold in the third before Novak came back. Do you think there’s some wishful thinking there?

Briggs: Some thought the distraction had lost him the match, whereas I didn’t think he would have won anyway. We all know how hard it is to put Novak away. There’s also just looking for a bit of drama.

AM: But not everybody wrote it up that way, which makes me wonder: how much of that drama-seeking is because they’re writing for a British audience?

Briggs: What you’ve got to remember is that tennis is a sport that is slightly odd and unique—a sport without boundaries. It sees itself as a land in which fans follow heroes who aren’t necessarily from their country. It’s not tribal in the same way as football or other team sports. So, we maybe bring a bit more of that nationalism to our coverage, possibly because we’re competing for readers with the Premier League. Whereas the Americans take an Olympian perspective, viewing the sport from a distance, we may focus more on the “blood and guts,” since tennis—lacking the physical contact of football—can seem antiseptic otherwise.

Peter Bodo has been writing about tennis for nearly forty years, beginning as a newspaper reporter during the “tennis boom” of the 1970s. He is the author of numerous books on the sport, including A Champion’s Mind, which he co-authored with Pete Sampras, and his latest, about Arthur Ashe’s historic 1975 Wimbledon win. Additionally, he’s an outdoor enthusiast who has written about hunting and fishing in both fictional and non-fictional formats. Many readers will be familiar with his writing for Tennis Magazine and its associated website, where he worked for over two decades. Currently, his columns are featured on ESPN.

AM: Do you remember when Novak first appeared on your radar?

Bodo: I remember the early controversies—the breathing issue, I think, at the French Open. But I wasn’t there that year (2005), so I really zoned in on him the year I wrote a story called “The Perfect Player.” This was at Indian Wells early on (2007) and it raises the question of the theoretically perfect player. I sat down and interviewed him for that piece. It’s kind of funny: to this day, if I write something where I criticize Djoković or not even criticize him but praise his opponent, Serbs will come out of the woodwork and attack me. Some will remind me, “You once wrote a piece…”

AM: So, your early impression was that he was a complete player?

Bodo: He was on his way. I loved the fact that he was so clean and how much rotation he had. I loved how flat his back-take was—stuff like that. He was just very economical and I thought he had all the upside in the world.

AM: What about his personality? In 2007, when he first made the final at the US Open, he was getting a lot of press for the “Djoker” side of him, the showman.

Bodo: Like most of the Eastern Europeans, he tried too hard. I’m from there, too, so I know. [Bodo’s parents were ethnic Hungarians who emigrated from Austria to the US in 1953, when he was four years old.] They try too hard, they get shat on, and they never get the respect they either deserve or feel they deserve. There’s a fair amount of snobbery toward them. They try to impress the West and are looked down upon by the West and dominated by the East (Russia). That whole region is caught in that crunch.

Of course, I’m speaking in broad generalities, but you often see the symptoms of this kind of thing. They really try to impress, they work extra hard, they try to show how smart they are: “We’re not just peasants from the middle of Europe. We can do this.”

So, you know, there was a touch of that with Novak—there still is. I always get a kick out of the way he talks like a bureaucrat—he kind of gives speeches.

AM: I noticed that his press conference answers have been getting longer and longer.

Bodo: Yes. He never says, “I don’t think that’s true, period.” There’s always a preface to his answers, a middle part, and a conclusion. On the whole, though, I think he’s been a real asset. He really wants to do the right thing. He wants to be a good citizen, a good representative of his country, and a force for good in the sport and the world.

AM: Looking back to somebody like Lendl, it seems to me that he was not only from Eastern Europe but also a particular kind of player and personality. That lent itself, in a way, to certain stereotypes. I’ve seen a number of comparisons between the two, especially regarding fans’ response to them. But I’m not sure I buy it—for one thing, because I’m skeptical of using “machine” metaphors to describe Novak.

Bodo: Right. They’re different. Lendl came from a very different and harsher situation. When Lendl got off the plane here and saw the headline “John Lennon was shot,” he asked, “Who is John Lennon?” Novak went to Germany when he was fairly young and was exposed to Western culture. He grew up in a whole different time. Their personalities are different, too. I got to know Lendl pretty well over the years. He’s got a good sense of humor, and I quite like him, but he’s a cold guy. If you were drowning, I’m not sure Lendl’s the guy you’d want passing by in a boat.

AM: You probably remember the Roddick incident from 2008. To what extent do you think something like that changes how people feel about a player or how a player acts in public? Do you attribute how much more circumspect he is now to maturity or something more strategic?

Bodo: I think it’s all of the above. He was a young guy who had a sobering experience. I’m not sure what he took away from it, but he probably got back to the locker-room and said, “I don’t want to get in these situations.” I don’t think it mattered one bit to people. It didn’t matter to me. Even somebody who booed him at that moment, I don’t think they came back the following year and thought, “There’s that Djoković who did this last year and I booed him.”

AM: Do you think it’s inevitable that any player coming after Federer and Nadal would find media and fans slow to warm to him or could you imagine his being welcomed with open arms?

Bodo: Well, there’s not that much room at the top, for one thing. So, I think it would have taken an exceptional amount of a) charisma, b) results, and c) marketability—a last name like Federer, Nadal, Johnson, or Roddick would have helped, too. It would have taken a perfect storm of user-friendly features to make that happen, which weren’t necessarily there.

AM: When you talk about marketability, you mean mainly in the West?

Bodo: Yes, of course.

AM: So, the fact that Serbia’s a tiny market is relevant. Do you think its recent history matters as much to Novak’s reception?

Bodo: Nobody here knows Serbia’s history, trust me. (Laughing.) No, I don’t think it’s that he’s from Serbia—it’s because he’s from “Where the **** is that?” That’s what it is for these people. Nobody knows.

He’s exotic. His name’s hard to pronounce, he’s got the funny hair—all that stuff sort of plays into it, even his accent, though that’s changed a lot. It never gets to the level of, you know, “He’s from that place that did this or has this history.”

AM: You don’t think there’s an anti-Serb bias to it?

Bodo: No. It’s definitely not anti-Serb—it’s anti-otherness. Anyone who believes that must think all these people read about the UN and Serbia and what NATO did. No: 99.2% of Americans have no idea about that stuff.

AM: Especially after he won Wimbledon for the third time this summer, reaching nine major titles, there seemed to be a critical mass of articles saying Novak should be more appreciated. Have you seen any shifts in terms of the coverage he’s gotten over the years?

Bodo: Yes, he’s won people over. You know, I’m tempted to say it shows how fickle the media is, but that would take credit away from what he’s done, which is significant. And I don’t think it’s been calculated—I don’t think he’s this skeevy guy who decided that it’s going to serve his best interests to be nice all of a sudden. I think he’s just a guy who’s gone through a very appealing and heart-warming evolution into who he is today, which is a wonderful citizen of the world and tennis ambassador. He’s matured beautifully.

Still, I love the fact that he’s retained a lot of his original passion and he still cares about his country—he’s not one of these guys who doesn’t want to have anything to do with his roots. Some players in the past have wanted to escape all that—and they had good reason to in the past, given what they left behind.

It’s really a testament to what he’s done. He earned a renewed respect—he transformed the opinion people had of him through hard work and attitude and actions and success.

AM: How much do you think the coverage of Novak depends on the nationality of the writer or, more to the point, who he’s playing—say, the Brits and Murray? Even if you don’t read around, you must notice the kinds of questions Novak gets from them in press?

Bodo: I don’t read a lot; I do notice their questions. They’re fixated on Murray, just as the French are fixated on the Frenchmen. I think most of them are pretty fair, but they know where their business is. You don’t get as many of the antagonisms that you once did—there used to be that against German players. I remember (British writer) Rex Bellamy’s line about Becker, “It’s curious the Germans would take such a deep interest in a Centre Court that not so many decades ago they had chosen to bomb”—stuff like that. I guess he was trying to be clever, but it was definitely a dig. You don’t see too much of that any more. I think they’re generally pretty fair, but they’re looking out for their own guys and whatever rooting interest they have tends to be for their own people.

AM: They seem to play up the rivalry which, until Murray beat Djoković in Montreal, was pretty lopsided of late.

Bodo: None of that is, I don’t think, negative toward Djoković—they’re all just trying to whip up some kind of storyline and interest. We talked about this the other day: he knows that type of game is played.

AM: He even used the word “storyline” in responding to you, which I thought was interesting. Djoković has been asked, Becker’s been asked these kinds of questions: “Do you feel you get enough respect or appreciation?”

Bodo: See, that’s a storyline in and of itself now. That’s the next one. Sometimes it really helps to try to quantify these things. You know what? He’s appreciated in direct proportion to how much he’s won. He’s number three on the list—you can’t get around that—and he gets number-three appreciation. That’s pretty self-evident, I think.

People are awed by Federer—they’re “ga-ga” over him. He’s unique that way. Even Nadal doesn’t get that. Now that he’s down, you see that he never had the same aura. It’s not like they’ve abandoned him, but it’s awfully quiet out there in Nadal-land.

AM: It sounds to me that your perspective on Novak has been pretty consistent—is that the way you see it? Has there been a major turning point in your thinking about him?

Bodo: No, I don’t think there has. I’m kind of proud of the fact that I’ve always been accused by one camp or the other of being the other guy’s guy. You pick me up on Monday, and I’ve got a man-crush on Federer because I wrote that his hair was “lustrous” in a final. Then, you pick me up on Wednesday, and I’m ga-ga for Nadal; then, on Friday, I’m suddenly on the Djoković band-wagon and isn’t that unfair! I don’t like to shift intentionally, I try to catch myself and not to get too sucked into any of the narratives, and I like to look through different eyes sometimes. Frankly, if I look at my own work over time… I’ve taken my shots at all of them.

AM: Is there anything you find particularly interesting or challenging in writing about Novak?

Bodo: Frustrating? No, nothing actually. I love the stories about him when he was a little kid. I like this idea, this picture of him diligently packing his bag and waiting with his lunch—how earnest and sincere he must have been. I really, really like that.

You know, this isn’t just a Novak thing, but I regret in a way that the game has gone so far… When I started out, you really got to know these guys. They only occasionally became bosom buddies, but you could get fairly close to them if you covered them a lot. Not any more. So, I don’t really know these guys in the same way. I had one-on-one interviews with almost all of them when they were young, but not lengthy ones since then. And if I went now and made an effort, I could get an interview with this new kid coming up, Borna Ćorić. At the front end of my career, I would have known them much better as people.